


Ready

by Get_below_my_line_of_vision



Series: Slowly loving you [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Families of Choice, M/M, Slow Burn, Trans Enjolras, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23764945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_below_my_line_of_vision/pseuds/Get_below_my_line_of_vision
Summary: Enjolras warms up to Les Amis once again and slowly gets ready to love again.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), combeferre/courfeyrac (background)
Series: Slowly loving you [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1177319
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	Ready

Still, Enjolras refused to come to the Musaine. Nobody knew why, but Combeferre assured everyone he was becoming more active; he just didn’t want to come. At first Grantaire feared for whatever reason it was his fault, but Enjolras bluntly informed him this was not the case. Les Amis were completely in the dark.  
“He never leaves him home. But he cooks, he smiles from time to time, and I heard him tell a joke to Grantaire one time,” Combeferre chatted.  
“He usually tells a lot of jokes; you’re just not there to hear it.” Grantaire shrugged and sipped his beer.  
That was all the mystery to it. But they were all sure Enjolras would soon return. It was inevitable. He had always been their leader.

While the members were theorising what could be the cause, a young woman burst through the doors with a wide smile. “Bonjour bitches,” She laughed, “I have some news for you to twirl your mustaches about.” It was Éponine.  
“What is it?” Marius pressed, reflecting her emotion on his face.  
“I went… jogging past Enjolras’ house today. And I witnessed a man come out at night.”  
All heads turned to Grantaire.  
“It wasn’t me.” He shrugged, pretending not to be interested.  
“See,” Éponine jumped about, “It wasn’t R! I would be able to spot that lump of coal from a mile away.”  
“Thanks Éps.”  
“No problemo. Unfortunately as the man was exiting, Enjolras followed, he said generic things like ‘Why?’ and ‘What gives you the right?’ pretty standard argument points.” She clapped her hands, “So what are your theories?”  
Collectively, there was a rise in suggestions. The Musaine was as loud as ever thanks to this.  
Grantaire walked out.

A he was travelling down the street, he received a message from Éponine asking if he left because of her. He sighed and reassured her that was not the case. 

But it kind of was.

At any other point in time if a man were to walk out of Enjolras’ house, he wouldn’t bat an eyelid. But right now, Enjolras was recovering from his row with his mother. If there were to be any fights, Grantaire had the right to be worried.

Every so often, about a couple of days at a time, Grantaire would text Enjolras, asking if he wanted to be visited. The answer would always be a welcoming one, but it never hurt to ask for permission a day or two prior.  
However with curiosity eating him Grantaire acted quite spontaneous by visiting him the next day. Also he forgot to text him. The problem was that he never stopped thinking about what Éponine said, so he deluded himself into thinking he had already asked for permission and had it approved.

So there, Grantaire was, in front of Enjolras’ house, early in the morning, practising how the conversation was going to go under his breath. He rang the bell.  
It took a few seconds, but alas Enjolras opened the door. “Oh, hi, R. Um, I just woke up. Sorry.”  
“You don't need to apologise,” Grantaire frowned as he entered in, “Besides you look perfect anyway- I wouldn’t have noticed it anyway.” He cursed under his breath. The fact that Enjolras practically looked like a Greek god was supposed to be in his thoughts, not in his verbal communication; that would make him look like a drooling stalker.  
“Thanks,” Enjolras tapped his shoulder as he headed to his room, “I was just going to cut my hair. It got too long.”  
Grantaire followed him in. The room was dimly lit but he assumed Enjolras just liked the natural light. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and watched Enjolras cut his hair in front of the mirror. “Hey, funny thing, Éponine told me that a man was in your house.”  
Enjolras paused and pivoted. “Yes. You and Combeferre are often here with me.”  
Grantaire laughed and scratched his head. “Yeha, uh, no. Apparently another man?”  
Enjolras’ face transformed to being emotionless. He went back to cutting his hair.  
“Well- it’s not important if you don’t want to talk want to talk about it-”  
“My father died.” He flatly explained.  
“What?”  
“My cousin came here to deliver the news.”  
“I’m so sorry.”  
Enjolras leaned into the mirror to get a closer look. “Don’t be,” He muttered, “I never knew the man.”  
Grantaire shifted in his seat, not knowing where to look, “So, what are you going to do?”  
“The funeral’s tomorrow.” He was satisfied with his hair cut. “My mother banned me from going. She had to get my cousin as a messenger- she couldn’t even face me.” He began playing with his hair, trying out which hairstyle suited him the most.  
“You should go. Don’t listen to her.”  
Enjolras grinned and turned around to face him, “Why do you think I'm cutting my hair?”  
Grantaire grinned back, pointing at Enjolras’ smile. “I look up to you, Enjolras. Not just physically because I’m sitting down, but because you don’t listen to other people’s shit. You want something, you go for it.”  
Enjolras swayed towards Grantaire and leaned in- their faces so close, their noses were almost touching. He did this to make sure Grantaire would properly look into his eyes. “You helped me recover when I was… paralysed. You are very important to me and I look up to you. Of course two of the same thing cancels out, and now we’re looking at each other eye to eye.” Enjolras smiled; it was becoming easier for him now, “And your hair looks shaggy. Cut it.”  
Enjolras allowed for Grantaire to breathe again by pulling himself away so they weren’t breathing the same air. He began to pick up hairs on the floor.  
Grantaire groaned and lay on his bed. “Why can’t you cut it for me?”  
“No, I only cut my hair.” Enjolras fired back playfully while cleaning.  
Grantaire stared at the white painted ceiling. “Are you sure you’re going to be fine?”  
Enjolras carried on brushing.

The day of the funeral arrived and Enjolras made sure to arrive late so he could sneak in without many people paying attention to him. His plan worked.  
Being in a funeral of someone he didn’t know felt like he was the only living person and everybody else was a ghost. Or that his clothes were a tonal filter and he only got the neutral emotions while everyone else had the extreme misery edition.  
Those who gave a speech were faces he didn’t recognise. They must have been family members on his father’s side. 

Enjolras really expected something dramatic to happen. Something to awaken in him. The worst he feared was that he would fantasise what if he grew up with his father instead. That he wouldn’t have felt the need to run away. That he would have been accepted for who he was.

Then there was one more person to give a speech: his mother.  
Enjolras swallowed a dry pill at that moment which contained the fires of the inferno which burnt his organs slowly. His mother, who had never even uttered his father’s name was in front of everyone, crying her eyes out.  
Tears welled up in his eyes. His mother’s words carried love and her tone was kind and caring. Her voice seemed so alien. He couldn’t remember if she ever spoke to him in such a gentle way.

As his mother stood, she briefly looked up to the crowd and spotted Enjolras. Her eyes widened but she resumed her practised speech. As always, she ignored her son.

When the funeral was over, the families were getting into their cars, ready to drive and have meals together. Enjolras wished to follow, just to know more about a man he never knew however he knew he would be rejected, so instead he walked back into the Church. Every step he took there was an echo. It was so silent he could hear his thoughts, loud and clear.

Enjolras was never a religious man. The idea of some entity looking out for him didn’t seem right.  
Somehow though the silence broke him and he collapsed in the middle of the Church. He looked up, beginning to cry. At this moment, believing someone understood him was his necessity. His friends, as much as he loved them, and even Grantaire, couldn’t understand the situation he was in. Not because it was complex, but because it was too painful to talk about. Instead, all they knew was that his mother neglected him for being born in the wrong body. He blamed himself for not opening up.  
He looked up and muttered if he would ever be truly happy again. He cried and cried and once he felt sleepy, he knew he had to rush home before he became too tired to move.

When he exited the Church he saw his mother waiting for him, standing in between the gravestones. “Hello.” She called out. Her voice was monotone as always.  
Enjolras didn’t reply. Honestly he wished to, but his words seemed to have wanted to fly out of his mouth at the same time, thereby causing a blockage. He was practically choking on words.  
“Look, I don’t want to fight.” His mother calmly shook her head as if their distance was a childish thing and that she had the moral upper hand. “Do you know how important your father was to me? He was the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. He was the love of my life.”  
Enjolras did not even spare a single hred of empathy for this woman, “Then you left him.”  
“Just like how you left me?” She cocked her head innocently, “Love is complicated. If you’ve been in one, you’d understand.” She pouted. “It really is a shame you can’t anymore. Looking like that.” She gestured to Enjolras, “I wanted grandchildren too…”  
Enjolras had had enough, “Why couldn’t I grow up with a father? How come when I see him for the first time, it’s a corpse?”  
“Shut your mouth!” His mother began to cry, clearly affected by Enjolras’ father’s death.  
“Tell me, mother, why couldn’t I have a father?” Enjolras became increasingly impatient.  
“Because he couldn’t handle having a baby! So I shut him off.” She bursted.  
Enjolras began to breathe quicker and quicker and he began to cry once more. “So you chose the life he would have? Just like how you set me on a path I didn’t belong just because it matched your predictions about the future?”  
The mother sniffled.  
“You ruined my life!” He shouted, gaining the attention of the family members left in the streets, “I could’ve been a normal boy. I could’ve been comfortable with my own skin. I didn’t have to develop the need of taking control and pining for attention from my parent. I could’ve been like everyone else. You couldn’t even look at me when I was a child. For what? Because I acted like a boy? Because I said something a ‘boy’ would say? You’re not a great mother, and my father was lucky to be dumped.”

Three family members gently guided Enjolras away while his cousin guided his mother away. It itched Enjolras that he wasn't able to hear her response.  
He was passively shoved away from the Church and from his mother.  
He pledged he would never meet his mother again.

When he arrived home, he trashed his room due to the built up frustration. From glass to wood, he managed to break almost anything. He wailed and wailed, not caring if anyone could hear him. He fell asleep in piles of fragmented objects- something that meant something to him. Now, in pieces, they lay on the floor. Some were sharp and bore into Enjolras’ skin but he didn’t move.

He was woken up by Combeferre who had informed him that his neighbours were worried and called him. “Grantaire told us you went to a funeral,” He also added, “So we could guess what your situation was, so I didn’t call the cops. I called family. I’ve invited Les Amis here just for a gathering. You can kick us out whenever you want and you can leave the room to meet them whenever you want, okay?”  
Enjolras nodded even though he was too tired to understand. He watched Combeferre leave the room.

Alone, Enjolras looked around his room- it was as if a bomb had dropped in it. He put his head in his hands. He took a moment. One breath. Then the other.

When he finally exited his room, he wasn’t quite sure how long he took inside. Nevertheless his friends didn’t celebrate him coming out of his room but instead one by one casually approached him. Knowing he was in the centre of everyone's minds Enjolras was grateful they didn’t overreact otherwise he would’ve been very uncomfortable. 

It was almost as if he was at a party. The people in his house were familiar and good friends yet he had not met them in a long time. Guilt grappled his throat.  
“Enjolras?” A voice called from behind. It was a female voice.  
When he turned around he came face to face with a beautiful young woman.  
“I- I’m Cosette. I’m new. I’m dating Marius.” Every sentence she spoke ended in high pitch as if she was asking a question.  
“Oh, hi.” Enjolras nodded and Cosette mimicked his action. “This is not the Musain.” He tried to joke.  
Cosette smiled and held his hand for comfort. “I know I don’t know you much like these other wonderful people, but I wanted to share something with you.”  
“What is it?” Enjolras tried his best to sound friendly- he didn’t want to drive people away anymore.  
“Well… I was adopted by my father. He is the most lovely person you can ever meet!” She was so joyful mentioning her father. “My first adoptive family was not nice. I was abused and it was found out. And I was adopted once more. To a good man. My father. At first everyone was skeptical. It was one man. No wife. No marriage. No partner. Yet he was perfect. In his arms, I felt as if I belonged. I felt complete- something I hadn’t felt for a long time.” She smiled as she let go of his hand. “I just wanted to tell you that. For no reason.” She laughed innocently.  
Marius appeared next to her. “What were you guys talking about?”  
Cosette shrugged. “He was welcoming me to Les Amis.”  
Marius laughed and hugged her. “Thanks Enjolras.” He smiled before gently holding her hand and walking away.

Enjolras understood what Cosette meant. Les Amis, despite not looking like a family in first glance, were his relatives. If Enjolras wished to have a home, arms he could run into when misery afflicted him, Les Amis was there for him. 

He began smiling to himself. He was generally happy. It wasn’t his first time, but it felt exhilarating every time. Having been thinking about his mother constantly had made him so depressed…  
Enjolras looked up. From across the crowded room he saw Grantaire. He was chatting with Bahorel and Jehan. He was laughing too. When his head slightly turned and saw him, their eyes met. Grantaire gave a wave and gave the purest, most endearing smile.  
Enjolras obviously smiled back, not wanting to forget this moment.

Later that night, one by one, people left. Combeferre informed him he would stay with Courfeyrac that night. He looked worried so Enjolras smiled and said he could handle being alone now. He was happy. Combeferre nodded and hugged him before heading out.  
There was only Grantaire left. They stared at each other for a few seconds and during the stretched seconds, Enjolras realised he was smiling subconsciously.  
Grantaire walked past him to grab his coat.  
“Stay,” Enjolras muttered, not sure if he wanted to be heard.  
With his coat in his hand, Grantaire turned to face Enjolras, his face pained, worried.  
“Please.” Enjolras whispered. “Just in case.”  
Grantaire nodded. “Of course.”

That night Grantaire slept beside him. At first he wished to sleep on the couch but Enjolras convinced him that was uncomfortable. Even though Grantaire was sound asleep, and at times, snored heavily, Enjolras barely slept. He thought about what Grantaire told him. He had to move on. It was hard, but Enjolras thought he could make it. For the first time he could see the finish line. And Grantaire was there, cheering him along at the line, stretching his hand out for him. Enjolras couldn’t wait to finish the race and be with him on the other side.

**Author's Note:**

> I mean I wrote a summary of two more parts after this one but it looks like I accidentally finished Enjolras' arc here. Whoops, I didn't mean this, haha.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
